


Coming of Age

by Toxic_Waste



Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: (I Have Canonical Sources To Back This Up), Because that's something that comes with the territory, Canon Compliant, Coming of Age, Gen, Hesitation, I swear it is, Learning to Shave, One Shot, POV Second Person, Parental Coaxing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 00:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15569253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toxic_Waste/pseuds/Toxic_Waste
Summary: Growing up brings certain changes to the body, and not even the Flynn children can escape this, as Phineas sees firsthand the results that time can bring to pass.





	Coming of Age

The moment you’ve been internally dreading for some time now has finally come, and your stomach is still doing flip-flops about it. You’d much prefer to just… put it off again, after all, it’s not _that_ bad, right? It’s not that you’re afraid of razors, exactly, nor the concept of shaving in general, but… come on, it just feels _wrong._

And you run your hand over your face again for like the fiftieth time in recent memory, and sure, you can feel the hair growing out, but it’s not that bad, right? Like… it’s surely not too noticeable. (Buford, of all people, did point it out the day before yesterday, and asked if you were growing your whiskers out, and you’ve never been more embarrassed in your life.)

You don’t want – and can’t have – a _mustache_ , for goodness’ sake, but the idea of actually going in there and shaving your face is just… it feels so wrong in every way imaginable. This isn’t what growing up is supposed to be like – you could’ve known it was coming, and Mom mentioned something about it on the exact day you turned nineteen, but… darnit if that doesn’t actually _help_ at all.

Dad’s been ‘subtly’ encouraging you to starting shaving for a while now, and you know that electric razor in the bathroom is supposed to be for you, but you haven’t touched it after he gave you that quick demonstration on how to use it. You just don’t _want_ to, for some reason, and so that means you don’t have to, right? Not everybody has to shave – maybe you just want to grow out a beard.

… okay, no, you definitely don’t, but even so. The (very good) point still stands.

Or at least it stood until a short while ago, when Mom came into your room and said that the hair on your face and upper lip was noticeable from across the room now, and that if you didn’t do something about it, then she was going to take you down to the hair salon and have _them_ do something about.

Which you definitely don’t want, either. If someone’s going to do this, it’s going to be you, it’s just that you don’t… want to. It’s just weird.

But though you said as much to Mom, she smiled and rolled her eyes but still shook her head. “Look, hon, I’m trying to help you here. How many months has it been where neither I nor your father have said anything? But if you want to grow the mustache, you at least need to make it look nice. You’ve got random long hairs sticking out all over place and it just looks _bad_ , to be honest.” She crosses your room and goes to touch your face, but you lift your arms and shy away.

“I get it, Mom, I get it, yes. I’m turning into a regular lumberjack. Thank you, I don’t really want the demonstration.”

She raises an eyebrow, looking half-amused. “It’s your choice, I guess, but you _need_ to get rid of those long hairs. And it’s been plenty long enough for you to do it on your own time, too. Come on.”

You grumble under your breath, a strangely apprehensive chill collecting in your gut as you get up off your bed and follow her out the hall and into the bathroom. The light goes on, and she opens the medicine cabinet and pulls down the electric razor – _your_ electric razor, even – and hands it to you.

You gulp.

“Do you need me to show you how it’s done, honey?” she asks, staring at you in the mirror.

“No! I – I know how it works,” you exclaim, refusing to meet her eyes, studying your own reflection as well. You’ve started on another growth spurt again recently, and you’re considerably taller than Mom now, something _else_ which you saw coming for a very long time, but also something that you’re not nearly as worked up over.

You’ve been tall your entire life, after all – you _haven’t_ been growing facial hair for nearly that same amount of time.

“Turn the razor on, sweetie,” Mom cuts into your thoughts.

You groan, but flick the switch anyway, and the quiet humming fills the small bathroom.

Mom shakes her head again. You swear she’s laughing at you inside, you know it, and you’re not particularly happy about it, either. “And now you just run it over your face, nice and gentle, and that’s, well, that’s it. It’s an electric, after all – it does all the real work for you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut tight and do as she says, if only because you know she won’t leave you alone (or let you out of the bathroom) until you do. It’s…

...admittedly, you weren’t exactly expecting it to be _unpleasant_ , really. The plastic guard is ever-so-slightly cool on your skin, and it glides smoothly across your face. You can hear the crackling-esque noise as the blades make short work of your hair, and in just few strokes back and forth across your cheeks and around your lips and chin, you’re done.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it now?” Mom congratulates you as if you just achieved some great feat. You can feel your cheeks heating up a little as you put the cover on the razor and stick it back in the medicine cabinet.

“I got it, Mom, I got it,” you say. Though you can’t resist the urge to reach up and brush your hand over your face now, as you study it in the mirror, and… it’s certainly much more smooth _now_ , and you’d be lying if you didn’t say it looked considerably better. There _was_ a lot of hair there, and it’s definitely nicer now that’s gone. It’s _also_ made your freckles even more visible, but… one battle at a time, really.

“I told you it’d be easy, you know,” Mom says, smiling knowingly and clapping her hand on her shoulder. “As long as you stay on top of it every now and then just like that, you’ll be set for life. And isn’t _that_ much nicer-looking than all that unkempt stubble anyway?”

You duck your head. “Yeah. I… guess so.” There’s not really any _denying_ that, at least not outright, but you’re still a bit loathe to admit it. But – well, you did it. You actually shaved your face, and it’s… going to be something you’ll have to do forever, too.

At least it wasn’t _that_ hard. Downright easy, if you think about it, which you hardly have to do because of just _how_ easy it actually was.

Turning out the bathroom light, you head back into the hallway after Mom, and it’s just then that Phineas appears in the doorway of his bedroom. He grins and shoots you fingerguns.

“Hey, looking good, sis,” he says. “I heard all that going on too, and it looks great if you ask me.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, well, you’re not gonna be able to get away without it for much longer, you know that, right?”

Mom frowns. “Candace, be nice to your brother.”

You duck your head again. “… sorry.” Phineas just smiles at you, because he’s Phineas and smiles at everyone. You stare at him awkwardly for a second. “… thanks. I guess.”

“No problem.” He winks. “Though you are right too. Maybe when I get older, we can be shaving buddies. That’d be cool.

Blinking, you deadpan for a moment. “No, it would _not_ be - just… just no, okay? We can be _no_ such thing.” Mom's tittering behind you, and you can feel yourself blushing. 

Maybe on second thought, that mustache wouldn't have been so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> ... hahahahaha
> 
> In all seriousness, I 100% swear on all that is holy that this is perfectly canon-compliant, as I tagged it to be. Don't believe me? No need to take my word for it - you can check the Phineas and Ferb Wiki [here](https://phineasandferb.wikia.com/wiki/The_Ballad_of_Badbeard_-_Character_Commentary) for the proof (just scroll to nearly the bottom of the page) - and if you don't believe that, well, it's just a matter of watching the episode for yourself. :P 
> 
> All that aside, I just find the idea of this as utterly too funny, and it somehow makes me love Candace even more. I mean, talk about uniqueness at the very least, right? Something like that, for sure.


End file.
